


in the arms of the ocean

by discountghost



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Dorothea eats people, Eventual Smut, F/F, Murder, Sea Monsters, Siren Dorothea, Sirens, Superstition, The siren agenda lives on, Violence, Yes dorothea has tentacles uwu, no beta we die like men, siren!dorothea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discountghost/pseuds/discountghost
Summary: Ingrid has a duty to uphold, a bloodline to continue. But the ocean knows.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	in the arms of the ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, yes, hello. First time writing for this fandom, please have mercy on me.

As a child, she watched birds be plucked from the sky.

Not the small, chirping birds that blended with the dirt, but the birds that seemed worthy of being marked as a trophy. Smaller birds of prey or ones so vibrantly colored they were hard to miss. Sometimes they would be snatched up by larger birds, squawking as they are carried away to an inevitable end. Other times, she would watch an arrow fly forward and they would plummet to the ground. Cheers would sound, but they would not be from her. But it wasn’t something that she would cry over.

She blinked, watched the sea birds swing this way and that with the breeze. Some kept time with the ship, flapped their wings hard enough to follow. Those in the distance were black smears on a red canvas. An ill omen, the sailors had said. It had been a red sky since the morning had broke. They’d casted suspicious gazes her way, some going so far as to pray under their breath. They held fast to old superstitions; a woman onboard was omen enough. And now she brought the reddened sky.

Ingrid sighed as she peered over the railing. Pale green eyes watched the waves as they chopped by, pulled the ship towards its course. The wind still breathed life into the sails; if she were an omen, they would have been stuck in the middle of the seas without so much as a breeze. She imagined the water was grass, waving in the breeze. A hand came to rest on her shoulder. The sun blocked out the face of her “beloved,” a smile painted onto her lips quickly as she turned to look at him. A face, blotted out by her displeasure with the situation.

It worried her. She wondered if it had to do with the war she’d seen. Faces that no more, turned to ink stains in her vision. But these were people and not incorrect words on a page. As much as she hadn’t wanted this, she did not  _ hate _ this man. Who was he again? Someone important, if she’d been shipped off to marry him.

“The crew says that it would behoove us to move into the cabins.” His voice distorted, and she tried not to wince at the sound of it. “A storm is coming.”

“Is that what they’ve been saying?” She turned her gaze heavenward, away from the depths and her husband. 

He chuckled. “What else did you think they were saying?”

“Nothing.” She let her smile stay on her face as her husband lead him to their cabin.

It was decadent. She struggled to keep the smile on her face just entering it. The single bed that they had was pressed against the wall, canopied by fine fabrics. Gifts, apparently, from their wedding. The second half of the ceremony would be conducted on the shores of her husband’s homeland.

“I know this journey is quite long.” Her husband slipped off his coat, let it rest on the edge of the chair pushed toward the heavy desk. “But once we arrive home, we will not have to worry about travel for some time.”

She lowered herself down on the bed. The green of the dress given to her by her father darkened in the dimness of their cabin. He moved about to light a candle. She thought there might be a smile on his face.

“I know.” But they would need to return to  _ her _ home once matters had been settled. They would need to cross the seas once more for him to secure the land that came with her name. Duty was a heavy weight on her shoulders. But she had to continue on. “I look forward to it.”

The day progressed in pleasantries. Pleasantries exchanged in passing with the ship’s crew; insincere and lacking in true care. Pleasantries exchanged with her husband; conversation to pass the dull hours they waited in their quarters for a storm that never came. Night fell in the same crimson sky, darkness soaked up the red. With the threat of a storm still looming, but not as prevalent, she was given reprieve to the coolness of the night.

Once more on deck, the flurry of activity had died down. A few of the crew members milled about, but kept to themselves. If she squinted upward, there she could spot the faint figure in the crows nest peering over the wooden rail above. The breeze was gentle in its caress as she wandered.

A stillness had settled. The gulls had stopped crying; she hadn’t noticed until it was just she on the deck. The ship creaked and groaned, swayed with the ocean. If she could her eyes, she might be one with the sea as the ship was. It reminded her of the fluid motion of a weapon in her hand and her heart ached. When she opened her eyes, not even the wind drew breath.

She heard it before she saw anything. A faint voice, beckoning. Not her; someone else. A thump, and something going through the air. She was all too familiar with the sound of bone snapping. Propelled by his own weight and gravity, the sailor came down. Hard was his landing. She turned her head. 

He resembled a dropped watermelon, burst open upon impact. Blood and bone and flesh mangled by one another. Ribs and bits of spine stuck out, twisted around flattened organs. She narrowed her eyes; he still twitched with life. Someone else had heard his fall — sailors spit out from the underbelly of the ship, frantic. Voices raised, and a hand tugged her toward her cabin.

“Get inside, girl! T’ain’t the time to be wandering now.” Rough-voiced, he didn’t seem to recall that he handled a noble. But he was panicked and she could forgive that.

Their journey was stalled. More of the crew ran past them, some beside. She locked eyes with one and watched the myriad of fear, anger, and distrust pass through him before he turned away. Did they think she was responsible for that sailor’s death? That would be impossible; she didn’t have any weapon capable of reaching him up that high on her person. A simple night dress and cloak to stay warm.

A mass of bodies blocked further progress. They seemed to wait for something. It was like the stillness before a battle, waiting on the frontlines for the command. She swallowed, inched forward only to be shielded by arms darting in front of her. Unable to see, she listened instead.

There in the quiet, between the murmurs was a faint note. A drawled out voice, clear as the day had been. One note tumbled into another and those closest pressed against the rails, only to be pulled back. 

“What is happening?” She narrowed her eyes, rolled up to the balls of her feet to try to see over the head before her.

The sailor looked to her, blinked. It was as if he were coming back to himself. “We’ve gotten into siren territory, girl. The bitches of the sea.” He spit onto the deck. “They weren’t ‘ere when we were on our way to port, but now they’re back. They must have smelled you.”

That didn’t seem right, but Ingrid had no reason to argue with his logic. He was presumably taking her to safety.

“She’ll be wanting to feast on the prey she’s already gotten.”

The sailor, or what was once a sailor, came to mind. He’d looked young when she’d seen him trapieze his way up to the crows nest. But now that did not matter. Even if his lungs inflated feebly among the remnants of his ribs, he was not long for the world.

“Best to get where we cannot hear or see her.”

They came up to her quarters, her husband flinging open the door. She caught the faint murmur of, “Thank the goddess,” as she was pulled inside. The commotion beyond the barrier of the door continued as the night drew on. Footsteps bore down on the planks of the deck, to and fro; back and forth. Voices raised to be heard — over plugged ears? She peered out a window to see the crew stuffing their ears with anything they could find. One man had been so desperate as to shove a knife in his ears and save himself the trouble of dealing with the sirens again.

“That is not something you should be watching.” He meant well; she knew. It didn’t stop the wave of vexation that overcame her. “Come to bed.”

“I have bore witness to worse.” She sighed, closed her eyes. That had more bite than she’d intended. “I...apologize. I—”

“You are tired.” That wasn’t it. She let him think he was right. “You need rest.”

“I fear I will not be able to with all that is happening. The crew, they—”

Her sentence is left unfinished. The ship rocked, more violent than even a stormy wave. They settled before it began anew. Like a drum beat, something thudded against the side of the ship. The voices rose again. Louder, more frantic. Doors slammed shut until it was still.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her husband blew the candle out, plunged them into darkness as he pulled her toward the bed. Despite sense screaming for her to go with him, she did not. She slipped from his grasp with little effort, crossed to the porthole toward the back of their quarters. She shoved aside obstacles in the darkness, ears filled with the sweet song of a woman. 

The words were terrible. They spoke of war and tragedy, of death and unending conflict. Her heart raced as her mind put an image to the words. Images of the past mixing into the present. In her mind, she donned her armor and prepared for battle. But her body moved on its own, drawn to the porthole. She stared out of it, breathing uneven as she sucked in gulps of air as if she were underwater. Before her flashed the memory of war, people dying. A scream of agony sounded, but she could not distinguish if it were real or fake. It drew on, a wails that mingled with those in her head. She blinked, finally at the small window. Held her breath as she drew close, looked out. 

Then it left her in a hiccupy gasp. 

The tentacles writhed, wrapped themselves around the rails. The voice sang on as they searched the deck. Fleshy masses with bumps and ridges. They felt around, suckers popping as they lifted from the deck and moved on. Pale, tan flesh dotted with blue rings filled her vision as a tentacle swept past the window. She drew back, shrinking away. She bumped into the wall of flesh that was her husband, his hands clutching her close. 

They watched together as the tentacle slithered on, suckers leaving wet trails like kisses against the window. They held their breath, hearts pounding out of sync. But nothing that ran through Ingrid’s mind came to fruition. The tentacle moved on.

Until it returned with a new vigor, pressing down on the glass until it shattered. The voice of her husband was merely background noise as something slick and cool wrapped around her neck and pulled her forward. She attempted to reach for the letter opener on the desk, but it was too far. Air left her, squeezed from her as the tentacle slid down to grasp at her torso. Her eyes rolled back in her skull before she was thrown forward and swallowed by the darkness.

_ Wake up. _

The voice was soft, dream-like. In her ear and not all at once. She felt as though she were floating, but her eyes stayed shut. Almost like her mind were trying to keep her safe from whatever it was the voice wanted from her. It was quiet a moment, but the sweep of something across her face made her jolt back. Her eyes flew open.

Around her was nothing but the cold darkness of the sea. The depths had swallowed her up; that had been the blackness that had taken her. But she could not feel fear. No matter how she tried, all she felt was the floating of being in the water and an odd sort of peace. She looked around her and there was nothing in the empty space. Not even the thing that had touched her before.

The curious thing about this was that even as she held her breath, she felt no need to. So she let it go. Bubbles of air left her, but water did not rush in. Just more air. She blinked, watched the way the air bubbles clung to her lashes before rolling upwards. She looked down and the sea floor was there. It wasn’t more than a conscious thought and her feet where on the ground, planted firmly. Lips pursed, she pressed on to find her way.

_ My, how you reek of it —  _

Ingrid froze, strands of hair drifting around around her as she turned her head to either side. The green ribbons that had locked them in place loosed with the gentle fingers of the water. She blinked again; there was no one around her. The voice was no more than a hushed whisper, like someone passing by and then gone. Gooseflesh riddled her arms, but she continued.

Tendrils of seaweed danced in the water. Swayed from side to side in an almost mesmerizing way. She let her fingers trail over the surface of the plant before continuing on. The terrain shifted, rocks rising out of the murky depth of the water. But she felt compelled to walk on. As if something pulled her onwards.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, something sweeping across them. But she did not look back and she pressed on through the haze. 

_ I can taste it on your skin —  _

The voice chuckled.  _ Chuckled. _ Low and sweet in her ear like an old friend sharing gossip. She gasped, panicked as the air changed to water and the saltiness burned her tongue. Her feet no longer touched the ground as long limb of  _ something _ stretched out towards her. They were vaguely familiar. Her gut churned as she pressed her lips shut, willed herself not to breathe in through her nose. 

Eyes loomed in the distance. They glowed bright like a lit flame, shining like a new gold coin in the sun. They invited her closer, beckoned her own past her panic and she complied. Ingrid didn’t know what possessed her, but she swam her way closer. Limbs awkward in their strokes. She marveled, absently, at the length of the limbs. How one could easily wrap itself around her several times over with still some left to wiggle about. Her heart stuttered in her chest as drew closer, closer.

They were still just eyes, but they held meaning. As if they were the whole of the being that lurked in the depths of the cold water. The same water that began to chill her bones. An ache started in her temples as she held her breath.

_ Do you want me to save? You take you away from him? _

Ingrid didn’t know what the voice — that now belonged to the eyes — meant. He? Save her? Ingrid didn’t need save. She thought she didn’t. Her throat clenched. The bubbles of her tears rolled off her lashes. She strained to keep the air from leaving her.

_ All that regret with nowhere to go. _

She regretted nothing. This was her duty, what she needed to do. At the blurry edges of her vision, the limbs moved. They seemed to twine inward, as if caging her in. Pushing her closer to the creature that watched her. That seemed to know something about her that she did not. Her stomach churned as the current shifted with the movement of the limbs.

This was a dream.

It had to be a dream. Or the creature the sailors had cursed and ran from had pulled her right over. Right out through the window and into the sea. Could that have been possible? Would it have been so easy? After countless battles, this was where the end claimed. She let her eyes slide shut and she relaxed. 

_ This is not a dream. _

The voice came in waves, rippling over her. A shudder rolled down her spine and she opened her eyes again. The limbs had wrapped around her. She’d been right; they were long enough that not even half them need to hold her. Two wrapped around her frame with ease, giving her a gentle squeeze to assure her that she was awake. Or some semblance of it.

The squeeze forced a gasp from her and more salt burned her tongue. But no water. Just the faintest echo of the sea dancing around her mouth and filling her with both sorrow and dread that were not her own.

“What do you want?” Her own words startled her; she’d forgotten that she could speak herself. Her brows furrowed as the eyes seemed to shift, pupils swinging from one side to the next. Then — laughter.

_ But I want to help you. What do  _ you _ want?” _

“I want to wake up.”

_ But you are awake. _ Another chuckle, teasing. A little higher than the last. 

Ingrid swallowed. “Please.”

The tentacles drew her in closer. The eyes were still just eyes, but there were teeth that gleamed at her. A smile the revealed teeth slid perfectly against one another. But jagged even in that perfection. 

_ Wake up. _

Her eyes flew open. Water rushed from her lungs and her whole frame quivered as she heaved up the sea she’d swallowed. She choked, gasped before another wave of choking ensued. Someone turned her on her side as she trembled. It was dark above her and for a moment she thought she was right back in the depths of the ocean, at mercy of some great sea beast. Ingrid gasped, a sobbing taking hold of her as she coiled in on herself.

The hands of her betrothed were on her soon, draping a blanket over her. She was soaked, chilled to the bone. Her dress clung to her like a second skin. She was sorely missing the armor that had she’d worn only months before her engagement and wedding had been announced, when she was still in the thick of things.

But she missed, quite desperately, the weightlessness of the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading! As mentioned in the notes before, this is my first fic for this fandom. I'm still kinda new to the games and I hope I don't blunder anything too badly. All feedback is welcome :)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/discountghosts) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/remeremerem)


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